Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
When I tell a young girl
she does not owe you
Then is not the time to sling
A word of empowerment and equality
At me like a slur
**** right I am a feminist
In the same way I'm a writer
And A scientist

Feminist is not an insult
It means I fight for equality
And ****** autonomy
It means that when a girl
Finds herself in your pig hands
That I want her to know
she has the right to refuse you

It means I want my future daughter
To grow up "as good as a boy"
Without anyone using that phrasing
Because it's the twenty first century
And it's about time we are equal
We've been fighting for this for centuries

When I was young
I used to read books
About girls who fought along side men
Disguised  
I loved watching them prove themselves equal
In cunning and strength
And then reveal themselves
To have breast and life giving *****

I shouldn't have to be manly
To make you respect me
I command the same respect
in a dress an makeup
As you in your suit
(Or more accurately basketball shorts)
once again it's the twenty first century
I don't need to be as strong as you
To be as valuable

And you're **** right
I'm a feminist
WE MAY NOT BE THE PERFECT PEOPLE
NO
****
WE'RE ALL ****** UP
BE WE WILL STAND UP FOR EACH OTHER
CAUSE WHO THE **** ELSE WILL?
WHOSE GONNA TAKE YOUR HAND, WHILE YOU SOB ON THE GROUND, AND PULL YOU UP?
FRIENDS, THATS WHO WILL
written in a fit of anger in ~45 seconds

#jasonwillliveon
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
jennifer
How is this possible?
Rejected by a website,
At least that's how I feel.
Not enough likes,  not enough messages.
But what else is new?  
It's been this way since I was a kid...

Insecurity, neediness
It's not very attractive.
Maybe it's time to grow up.
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
b for short
Push off of the cool cement.
Gravity eases his grip on me.
Suspended in air,
I swallow mouthfuls of the night sky.
With stars in my lungs,
I course their light through my veins.
Between me and the moon,
my small world is drenched
in a hushed, wavering silvery glow.
The still, black surface
breaks into a thousand glittering pieces.
I’m told those little diamonds make
the most melodic tinks and pings,
but I don’t ever hear them.
By then, I’m fathoms below—
where I’m enveloped in quietude,
where time is an extinct notion,
where even the heaviest heart
can beat
                    for whatever she chooses
without
burden.
© Bitsy Sanders, June 2015
Laying out in the sun.
Getting sunburns that lead to tans.
Spending hours in the ocean.
Waves crashing against my skin.
Lots of smiles.
Lots of laughter.
Yet something's missing.
Something's not right.
This great day feels wrong.
And I can't quite place why.
Though I think I'm starting to figure it out.
I think it's because of you.
Because you're not here experiencing this with me.
And you were suppose to always be here.
Experiencing the rest of life and its beauty at my side.
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
Julia Elise
girl in the bathroom paints on her face
covering the spots on her skin
hoping to be like the others
cover it for the mornings
but reminded by the night time
knowingly she changes her looks
unknowingly she changes herself
shimmering colors reflect the lights
perfectly pinched pink cheeks
but her mascara-full lashes smear
and the wings of her eyeliner droop
she knows she'll never be like them
how could she love herself
when everything she sees in the mirror
are the things she hates most
cries as she stares at her reflection
she'll never be like the other girls
with genuine beauty and poise
but the other girls aren't authentic
they paint on their faces
to hide the real girl underneath
dear mother,
my mental health is not a spectator sport.

you do not get to tell me "you need to go to school to learn to be a decent person" when i am too depressed to get out of bed and then brag about my ACT score.
it is not your score. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to tell me that you are sending me to a psychologist to "learn how to treat other people" and then ask me if i am okay. i am not okay.

dear mother,
you do not get to watch me hyperventilate under a bed on a school morning and get angry and then brag to your friends about my GPA. it is not your GPA. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to scream at me for "upsetting your household" and order me to take easier classes and then brag to your friends that your daughter took 5 AP classes. yes, that is hard, but you made it harder.

dear mother,
you do not get to scold me when, yes, i stayed up all night but didn't finish my work but then brag to your friends about my success. it is not your success. it is mine.

dear mother,
you do not get to push me down and then comment on how wonderfully i got back up.

you do not get to cheer me in success and boo me in defeat. i am not a sports team, i am your daughter

dear mother,
you are not my mother. you are my fair-weather fan, and yes i am doing well now but i do not have time for autographs.

dear mother,
goodbye.
I'm in a funk
Let's get drunk
Let's scream and yell
and raise some hell
And when we're done
with our stupid fun
I'll turn and run
I'm a hang man hung
I love the beginning
though I know the end
Pain inflicted again and again

Let's get drunk
The ship is sunk
There is no reversal
I'm a skeletal vessel
Riding the storm
broken and torn
weathered and worn
nothing to mourn
The captain took my treasure
and then the rocks became my friends
I'm crashing against them again and again
 Jun 2015 Kiarra Dean
Ryan Cripps
This isn't any sort of poem, just a thank you to everyone who has followed me and who supports my poetry. I've been on Hello Poetry for exactly a year, and It has been so much fun to interact with other poets and to read everyone's amazing work. I hit 101 followers yesterday and it my not seem like a lot to some people, but i love each and every one of you peeps! You're all wonderful, and awesome, and feel free to message me anytime! Keep doing your poetry! I hope you're having a swell day :)
Of course, Follow me and I will follow you back!
Next page